Getting a package slip

I check our mailbox in the entryway a lot and it usually contains a flier or notice of some kind. And the notices are for the landlord or his mother: a registered letter, something from the pension fund, etc.

The other day I grabbed the usual assortment and started to put it in the pile to give to the landlord for when we actually make contact with him (it's already the 6th of October...he does want the rent, right?). But then I looked a little closer and noticed that it was MY name there on the slip. I had received a...banderole? Hmmmm. Something between a letter and a package...

There was an address of a "pick-up center" I needed to find in order to claim my "banderole." A hassle, yet at the same time I remembered back to the college days, when we received those yellow package slips with joy, even if we knew the package would contain something we had ordered ourselves. It was such a treat to get mail! Continue/-

And now, who knew what surprise was waiting for me? Not many people knew my address, but someone had decided to take a risk and send something from faraway...

It took about a week before I found the time. Not that the pick-up center was far, but knowing the usual situation at the post office, I might have to stand in line for hours. Plus, they had lunch from 1-2 pm. So I would have to factor that in.

I got to see a new part of my neighborhood. It was pretty, with tree-lined alleys of different colors in the fall sunlight. I even ran into a pretty little church building. Who would have known it was hidden back there?

The package slip noted that the pick-up center was "in the courtyard." Good thing, because I don't know if I would have thought to go around the corner. In a regular apartment building, from the courtyard side, was a little "post office" sign.

I went inside to find...an empty waiting room. So much for the queuing drama! The room was lined with post office boxes and then at one side there was a little window you could go up to in order to receive your package. Once I got the ladies' attention, they looked carefully at my passport and registration (to confirm it was the same person), and then I got my media envelope. Oh, that's what a "banderole" was.

The return address was marked "Sweden." Too impatient to wait until I got home, I ripped open the envelope. Inside were two boxes of...business cards, with my name on them. And the name and address of a company who hired me, but hasn't contacted me for a month. Very interesting...